


YOUR EYES TASTE LIKE CARAMEL

by Queenoftheuniverse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bit of biting, Boys Kissing, Clothes tearing, Consensual Violence, Deep throat, Dirty Talk, Edgeplay, Filthy kissing, Gunplay, It's all done in the best POSSIBLE taste!, Knife Play, M/M, Mild S&M, Mouth Fucking, Mouth rape, Slapping, Spanking, Theres the sound of a crop but no actual crop action, Velvet things, military uniform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:36:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenoftheuniverse/pseuds/Queenoftheuniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is a filthy dominant pervert on his days off and Sherlock sets himself up to submit to him in a public arena without Johns prior knowledge. Sneaky bastard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> I love DomJohn!!!!
> 
> Finally worked oot how to wack in more chapters!! Yew bewdy mate!!

YOUR EYES TASTE LIKE CARAMEL

ONE

Sherlock always knew of Johns secret side. Worlds greatest detective, I mean really, how could he not know?

But knowing and seeing were two vastly different things.

Sherlock had set this night up, in this loud BDSM club, to satiate his damned curiosity and already the night was feeling a tiny tad out of his control. As a result he was a bit snappish.

"Hurry up Mandie, tie my arms, get the blindfold on!" He demanded, shoving his wrists behind him and crossing them, allowing Irenes newest girlfriend to bind them in strong velvet rope. 

"Okay Sherlock, anxious much sweetie?" Mandie purred in his ear as she set to work.

Sherlock could see John below him from his vantage point at the top of the stairs. John was dressed in a plain khaki version of his army uniform, tidily pressed, combat boots, hair slicked to the side neatly. That sight enough was all Sherlock needed to make his heart hitch, but the fact John was also dirty-kissing a half naked drinks waiter was really too much!

And when John slapped the waiters black latex clad arse to send him on his way Sherlock growled like an angry cat. John then floomphed onto the red leather lounge and sighed happily.

Mandie took this as a cue to bind a length of velvet around Sherlocks eyes. The world went dark.

"Ready sweetie?" she hissed into his ear. He nodded.

Mandie gripped his upper arm and shoved him down the stairs. He stumbled and cried out, but Mandie had a good hold of him, and then she was shouting.

"Down the stairs slut, hurry, so many people want to have you tonight, let them see you!" 

Heads turned of course. Sherlock was gorgeous and helpless and Mandie was very VERY loud. Sherlock heard a crop snap near his ear and he could not hold in a gasp. Suddenly hands were tweaking him, grabbing him, squeezing him, and feet were tripping him. He was dizzy and confused and this was not what he expected!

"Kneel sweetie." Mandie said then, and used his hair to encourage him to his knees. "Captain, would you like to have a look at the new slut?"

Oh, so he was in front of John on the couch! Joy. He breathed heavily, licking his lips and leaving them parted. He was winded and his heart was flipping.

"SHH-" came a quick exhalation in front of him. Sherlock took this as one of three things: The sudden exclamation of his name cut short in surprise, the beginning of a swear, or...a general instruction, 'Sh! Don't talk.'

"Oh...." John said then. Voice husky. Sherlock heard him thinking and realising....Sherlock did not know who he was! And....how far could he take this? And....how far would he WANT to?

John had always been a dominant personality, and when he let himself relax, his Dominant side came out to play. Like a social drinker, he let Captain Watson out as a relaxation technique every month or so. Sherlock had followed him last time and saw him disappear into this club. A club run by Irene Adler for....recreational scolding. 

So Sherlock had dreamed this scheme up. He would come in blind, tied, and John could....do things to him. At the very least Sherlock would have Johns delicious hands and mouth on him. At best, this would break the ice and John would come to him willingly, at home, out of the club.

And the idea of that was breathtaking to Sherlock.

"Shall I leave him here Captain?" Mandie asked then, and forced Sherlocks head back so if he eyes had been unbound he would have had to stare into Johns face. Thank heavens he did not have to now. He underestimated just how intense being submissive and bound would be. All the feelings,the suddenness, and the sounds! Music and dancing and chatting, and sounds of impacts and squeals.

John must have nodded because Mandie roughly pushed Sherlocks head and let go of his hair.

"Be good!" she told him and he felt her go.

Sherlock knelt for what seemed forever. Suddenly there was a finger on his lips and John lent forward. Sherlock could smell him, cologne and skin and John. Then Johns voice so deep and husky in his ear.

"Be still. Be quiet".

Sherlock shivered. The voice was not Johns normal voice and if Sherlock had not known it was his blogger he would not have known it was his blogger!

He managed a small nod and to his surprise a tiny sound came from his lips. Oh this was glorious!

Johns finger moved from his lip to trace his cheekbones. His other hand came up and he used his thumb to rub Sherlocks plush bottom lip.

"Gorgeous..." John said in that same low tone and Sherlock made another quick nip of a sound. Involuntary. Real. He swallowed and Johns hand rested on his throat to feel the gulping bob of his Adams apple.

Now Johns hands went to Sherlock lush hair, and gripped it in two fists above where the velvet looped his skull.

"Beautiful...."

Johns cheek pressed to Sherlocks then and that maddening voice was back in his ear.

"I have to have you."

Sherlock moaned. No silly sound this time. A moan of desperate pain as that voice, that sentiment, shot to coil hotly in his groin. He wanted to beg, oh please Captain yes, but he was told not to speak. 

John used the hands curled in Sherlocks hair to tip his head back and then...oh, Johns lips were at his throat! Kissing him with those wonderful lips, tasting with the very tongue that kept Sherlock fascinated, that mouth, oh that mouth....

His moans were louder and his covered eyes rolled in his skull. His pulse raced ahead and he arched himself so John could get better access to his throat. John spent time sucking at the most sensitive parts, and then...oh Lord in heaven, his teeth! John bit roughly at Sherlocks jugular, trailing bite after bite in a line down, then across his larynx, and up to the beating pulse on the other side. He wanted to call out loudly to a deity he did not necessarily believe in!

And then John growled, oh yes, he growled and his hot mouth crushed against Sherlocks plump and asking-for-it lips. His tongue pushed aside Sherlocks teeth and invaded his mouth with an insistence that left Sherlocks brain scrambling to keep up. Johns fingers clutched at Sherlocks hair and used it to guide Sherlocks head to the angle he needed. Johns hot tongue licked at Sherlocks, twining and battling. The kiss had started hot and was now bordering on filthy. Deep languid kisses, all tongue, and all Sherlock could do was tremble and submit to what Johns mouth demanded.

When John broke the kiss and slid back into the couch Sherlock whimpered with loss. But one second later John was dragging him forward by fingers that had never left his hair. Sherlock fell forward, his upper body bent over John. Johns legs parted and he dragged Sherlock further upward, and clamped his strong army thighs to Sherlocks hips, stilling him.

Then those hot lips found his swollen mouth again and straight away that hot and dizzying feeling crashed in on Sherlock.

Johns hands released Sherlocks hair at the same time as he broke the kiss again. His fingers dug into the velvet jacket at Sherlocks upper arms and that voice once again shivered down his spine via his ear.

"You know where we are. There's hundreds of people here. Watching us. Just us. All eyes on us." 

Sherlock whined and nodded, snapping his lips closed against any begging words he wished to say. He knew there were only at most 87 people in the room and most of them were...busy...with sluts and whores of their own. But picturing an audience made Sherlocks cock twitch and harden even more than those feverish kisses did.

"I am going to take your lips again, in front of all these people. And you are going to moan for me." the voice in his ear purred. Sherlock gasped, desperate to beg, but then John spoke again. 

"Then you are going to suck me off with that sinful mouth of yours, and I am going to come down this pretty throat."

Johns hands stroked Sherlocks neck and he let out a sob of want. He found himself nodding nodding yes yes please....

But Johns mouth was back on his, digging his tongue in again, and crushing Sherlocks shoulder blades together with the insistent fingers at his biceps. He dragged poor Sherlock forward again and all Sherlock could do was kiss him deeply, weird small sounds coming from him, sounds of whimpering and mewling. 

John pushed Sherlock roughly away then, and Sherlock heard the sound of Johns trousers unzipping.

"Put your mouth to good use." he ordered, and pressed Sherlock to his lap.

Sherlock used his tongue to situate himself with regards Johns now ram rod hard cock. Sherlock was not exactly an innocent when it came to giving head but it was so important to get this right he found his stomach clenching with anxiousness.

With only his lips and mouth and tongue he was not sure if he could do it, but the fact his arms were restrained and his eyes were hidden made the stress sexy. 

He put out his tongue and pointed it right into the eye of Johns cock. John hissed in a long breath and his hand fell gently to the back of Sherlocks head. Sherlock shifted himself and placed his mouth over the head of Johns twitching cock. He slid his wet mouth slowly down and John moaned. Sherlock relaxed his gag reflex and took John as deep as he could. Johns moan cut short and Sherlock knew the poor captain had had his voice stolen by the very act of deep throating him.

Sherlock took his time dragging his hot mouth back up Johns length and then sliding down again. He did this five or six times until he increased the pace. Both of Johns hands went back to Sherlocks hair to hold tight and he began to buck his hips up in time to Sherlocks bobbing head.

Soon he was ramming his cock into Sherlocks willing mouth. He began saying filthy things under his breath that Sherlock could barely hear. Johns hand on his hair made it impossible to stop for proper air and he found himself drooling and groaning as the blow job became a throat fuck.

Finally, with a low nasty growl, John froze and shivered out rope after rope of come, deep inside Sherlocks ravaged throat, tearing into Sherlocks hair with fingers clamped closed in gleeful orgasm. Sherlock moaned and swallowed as much as he could, but some dripped out of the corners of his mouth.

As soon as he was spent, John dragged himself from Sherlocks lips and zipped himself up. Sherlock slumped forward but as he did, John stood, so Sherlock found himself dropped to the floor. He landed hard on his shoulder and grunted. He heard Johns boots march away from him and he sighed.

He lay there, hair mussed, clothes a disarray, lips swollen and wet with another mans come, a man who had walked away...  
No doubt these strange conflicting feelings within him, feeling wonderful when he really should feel insulted and dirty, were fascinating and needed more investigation.

Oh but how to convince John? Let John know that it was all good, it was fine...it was better than fine, it was....awesome!

"Well", he thought..."I will just have to say pretty please...."

#


	2. TWO

YOUR EYES TASTE LIKE CARAMEL

TWO

It was irresponsible of John to just leave Sherlock like that but Mandie was on hand to untie him and help him recover. Sherlock found himself grinning like a giddy schoolgirl and Mandie laughed at him. She sent him on his way with a drink of water and a nice kiss to his cheek.

By the time he got back to the flat he noted that John had showered, judging by the steam and soap smell wafting through the place.

Sherlock hung up his coat and was just dragging his scarf from his neck when John came in, rubbing his wet hair dry with a fluffy towel. Sherlock noted the pyjama bottoms, white T-shirt and robe. And the innocence in Johns ice blue eyes.

Sherlock barked a quick laugh and ran his hand through his hair.

"Good night?" John asked, flipping his towel over his shoulder like a scarf.

"Very good thank you John." Sherlock said. "Could do with a cup of tea."

"I'll get it. I want one too."

He crossed to the kitchen and Sherlock floomphed onto the couch. He saw no sign of the uniform John had worn but he made a note of the combat boots that were shoved under the couch he was now settling himself on. He stared into space with a quirk of a smile on his face.

"Here, Sherlock." John interrupted his thoughts with a hot cup of tea. Sherlock sat up and thanked John as his flatmate took a seat on his usual chair.

They sipped in silence.

"How was your night John. Go out?"

"Mmmm." John said, sipping and finding the wall very interesting.

"That's good." Sherlock said. He paused. "I didn't get as much done as I hoped. Seems my hands were tied..." he paused and swirled his piercing eyes to Johns now ticking face. "Metaphorically of course."

"Oh.." John said, and coughed. "Of course."

"I had no idea what to expect. I was going in blind."

"Right..."

"The situation....sucked." Holmes went on, still innocently sipping, staring as his blogger as the blood flooded into his face.

John suddenly dropped his cup onto the coffee table, rose and stalked to Sherlock. Sherlock backed back in shock, he was not expecting such a sudden change from mild mannered John to Dominant John.

John slapped the cup from Sherlocks hand, dashing it to the carpet, and using his other hand to take Sherlock roughly by the throat.

"You bastard!" he hissed, clambering onto Sherlocks lap, trapping the detectives legs between his knees. "You fucking knew!"

Sherlock held his arms out in the classic "I have no weapons, frisk me" pose.

"John-" he choked, but John silenced him with a deep, filthy, captive kiss. It was not romantic, it was ownership, and his tongue was sharp, jabbing into his mouth and sliding into every corner. 

Sherlock moaned and his eyes fluttered shut. 

His shoulders could no longer support his outstretched arms and they flopped to the couch. Even taken like this he knew better than to touch John without permission.

John pulled away from Sherlocks mouth.

"You still taste of me" he hissed, mere millimetres from Sherlocks open swollen lips.John licked them then, making sure Sherlock knew exactly what he was tasting.

Sherlock moaned again, his Adams apple moving against the tight hand still clamped there. John finally moved that hand and, with his thumb, moved Sherlocks head to the side to allow access to his beautiful neck.

No nice kisses, no sexy licks. Just hard biting, long suction, moving over every inch of Sherlocks feverish skin, marking him with teeth and mouth. 

"John-"

"Sh!" John snapped, barely lifting himself from where he was now ravaging Sherlocks larynx. Sherlocks answering moan vibrated against Johns teeth and John growled.

Finally, after marking the other side of Sherlocks neck with matching marks and teeth dents, John pulled back. 

He heaved off the detective, grabbed Sherlocks arms and dragged him to a supine position on his back on the couch. Sherlock whimpered accidentally but before he could struggle, John had mounted him again. 

He crossed Sherlocks wrists with one strong hand and pushed them into the couch above Sherlocks head. His other hand began to roughly undo Sherlocks belt. 

Johns hands, usually so gentle and caring, became rough insistent claws and Sherlock responded in a way that surprised him.

"John, be nice, please!" he begged but both of them knew he meant the complete opposite. John ripped his button, tore his zip, dug inside and dragged Sherlocks half hard cock out. "John!!" Sherlock squeaked.

"Shut up!" John spat. 

His eyes burned into him and Sherlock tried to nod but...Johns hand was on his cock, squeezing to the point of pain. Then Johns hand left Sherlocks wrists and slammed over Sherlocks mouth. Hand gagged to silence Sherlock made a tiny sound that was cut off as his cock shuddered to full hardness. Sherlock didn't dare move his hands down though. He kept them right where John had put them.

Johns hand began to stroke Sherlocks length using only Sherlocks copious pre come as lubricant. No slow build up, he just powered up to full thrust, eyes boring into Sherlocks. This was roughness at its most intimate and Sherlock found himself loving it, loving the screaming feeling of being taken so suddenly, loving the power John had over him. He was just a cock. Just a hard cock. For John.

He began to whimper under Johns hand, and John dug his thumb into Sherlocks jaw. Johns lip curled and he snarled, hand still pumping at Sherlocks now fully engorged cock. Sherlocks hips juddered and he began to fuck Johns fist. It was too much, too fast, too.....

Sherlocks whimpers became constant, air whistling through his nose, eyes rolling and fluttering as his brain melted down. The orgasm was building despite his mind detaching and he became nothing more than cock and come.

"Oh yes, you fucking little bastard, come all over my hand!" John sneered.

His orgasm ripped from Sherlock as if he was a trained monkey. Wave after wave tore through his cock and his come shot over his shirt and spilled on Johns fist. He thought he would never stop coming. His whole body shook and trembled, his hips jutting up, back arched, eyes watering. He was vaguely aware of Johns full throaty laugh but his ears were roaring too much to be sure.

Finally spent, he collapsed back on the couch, cock twitching, chest heaving, eyes rolling and head lolling on his now hopelessly weak neck.

Johns hand slid from his mouth and he then kissed Sherlocks swollen lips.

"Well done you dirty fuck...well done indeed..."

Sherlock swallowed around a lump in his throat and rasped.

"Thank you..."

He paused.

"....sir...."

 

#


	3. THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is pinned by John to the wall and used roughly.
> 
> He finds himself responding like a bitch on heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just all aboot rough fucking and sexy times.

YOUR EYES TASTE LIKE CARAMEL

THREE

"You dirty fucking little cock tease!" John hissed, crossing the room to smash Sherlock against the wall, pinning the taller detectives wrists above his head in a grip of steel.

"What-" Sherlock squeaked, but got no further because John was raping his mouth with that hot commanding tongue of his. Poor Sherlock, all he could do was whimper and wiggle up the wall a bit, but he responded, oh how he responded. John had a commanding way when he was in Dominant John role. 

It had only been two weeks since Sherlock had tricked John into dominating him at the local BDSM club and in that time there had been one time on the couch, a few nasty kisses, a series of evil suggestive hisses in his ear at three crime scenes, and a very tasty spanking session which ended in a humiliated Sherlock coming all down Johns trouser leg like a naughty schoolboy.

But tonight all Sherlock did was walk into the room and ask to borrow Johns phone....

Johns nasty mouth pressed in harder and Sherlock tasted blood, his own, from where his mouth was being ground against his own teeth. The taste, the overpowering strength of John, and the suddenness of this attack all combined to make Sherlocks brain white out and a long drawn out moan to rise from his throat.

John snapped his mouth away from his red swollen lips and snarled.

"This shirt, you dirty cunt. You know wearing it makes me hot."

Sherlock whimpered again, pulse choking him.

"I'm sorry Sir..I didn't know!"

"LIAR!!" John roared, releasing Sherlocks right wrist and slapping the detective across his beautiful face. 

"No, John, I didn't..NO!" Sherlock started to protest and then raised his free hand to protect his face when he saw another slap coming. John paused, hand raised.

"Then why is it called the purple shirt of SEX?" he spat, and Sherlock quivered in pretend innocence. Oh he knew it was the purple shirt of sex alright. He had worn it deliberately. He hd also spent all day with a well lubed butt plug in his arse. He removed it not 15 minutes before sauntering in with his tight black trousers and his sex-shirt half unbuttoned...oh he knew what he was doing alright....

"You whore....." John whispered then and Sherlock nearly passed out as all his blood went south. God, he loved dirty talking John! 

He found himself spun, then forced,crashing, to his knees by his shoulders. He gasped in pain, and then John had hand hands full of his gorgeous thick hair in his fists. He leaned back on the wall, standing with his feet apart.

"Suck me with that fucking slut of a mouth, bitch." 

Whimpering again Sherlock hurried to do Johns bidding. He unzipped John with shaky fingers, pulled Johns raging hard cock out and slid his wet willing mouth down the whole length.

John breathed out a long low moan, dumping his head back on the wall and shoving his cock into Sherlocks throat. Sherlock tried not to gag but he could not move. Johns fists in his hair held him still. Then John began to fuck Sherlocks throat in small, languid thrusts. Sherlock did his best to use his tongue on John where he could but by now he was just a hot mouth for Sir and the idea made his cock drip with pre come.

John looked down on the glossy head of Sherlock and those pretty lips on his cock.

"Ah yeah..." John murmured. "That's what you were made for, your hot mouth on my cock, whore. Suck me down Sherlock, you little cocksucking fuck...yeah, just like that..."

The filth coming from Dr Watsons mouth was so deliciously dirty that Sherlock was having a hard time concentrating. He moaned and swallowed best he could. Drool dripped from his mouth making him feel so slutty and used that made his heart gallop.

Suddenly John pushed his head off his cock with a wet sound and once again slapped Sherlocks face, same side. 

"ENOUGH!"

Sherlock cried out and crashed to the floor. Before he had time to think, John was on him, straddling him, pushing him onto his back on the rug, tearing at his tight black trousers, using his knee to part Sherlocks legs.

"John, no, stop!" Sherlock protested, trying to push John from him with pathetic gestures. John growled and smacked him again, causing Sherlocks eyes to water.

"Please Sir please, stop this, you're hurting me!"

"Mnnn, I plan to make you SCREAM..." John said, low in his throat as he pinned Sherlocks chest and tore away the flimsy trousers with a loud ripping sound. Sherlock was wearing no underwear and this caused John to growl again and call him a slut. He shoved Sherlocks thighs further apart and rammed his hand down under the shuddering detectives tight balls to his arsehole.

When he found it was wet and pliant with lube he moaned, and his eyes rolled back.

"You....dirty...FUCK!"

He pushed roughly at Sherlocks hole with his hard aching cock and rammed his full length home. Sherlocks scream was cut short by Dr Watsons hand slapping over his abused mouth and this made Sherlock gasp out beneath Johns palm. He spread his legs wider, raising his hips to allow John more depth to fuck him, and John obliged.

There was no slow going. John was fucking Sherlock with vicious abandon, using him like the filthy hole he was, taking his pleasure roughly with long hard strokes. He ripped open Sherlocks sex shirt and pinched one of the detectives nipples with all the strength in his fingers. Sherlock screamed into Johns hand, bucked, tightened his hole around Johns ramming cock. And then, when John did the same to his other nipple, he screamed louder, juddered, and found himself suddenly coming and coming and coming, in long shuddering screaming waves, his hips snapping, his fingers jerking to clasp the air, his eyes glazed as if he was a tranquillised zebra.

Johns voice failed him as he amped up his piston-like strokes and in four, five, six hard thrusts he too was coming, tearing into Sherlocks arse, back bowed as if his seed was coming from his very toes. His voice came back, he roared Sherlocks name, spittle flying from his mouth as he juddered and staggered and shook, rope after rope spilling inside his whores filthy hole. Then, leaning forward, he bit into Sherlocks shoulder and Sherlock added a wail to the end of his orgasm.

John fell forward then, letting Sherlocks skin go from between his teeth and collapsing onto Sherlocks trembling body. He panted, breath loud in his ears, Sherlocks heart beating against his cheek like a drums in a marching band.

Then, when he got his breath back, he slid out of Sherlock and stood on shaking legs. He took off his dirty T-shirt and threw it onto Sherlocks chest. Looking down at the debauched, come drenched, half dressed beautiful man below him he sneered.

"Clean yourself up, you filthy fuck." he said and stalked from the room.

#

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn...did it just get scorching in here?????


	4. FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has something so nasty planned that Sherlock all but loses his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squeeeee!!

YOUR EYES TASTE LIKE CARAMEL

FOUR

Sherlock twisted his wrists gently. They were well and truly restrained. The leather cuffs creaked and the short chain on each cuff scraped against the bed poles they were tied too. The wide cruciform position of his arms left him wide open and vulnerable. The vulnerability was only enhanced by the tight inky black blindfold pressed into his eyes and twisted around his head.

He wiggled a bit on his bed, well aware that Dr Watson was in the room, staring at him. He had demanded Sherlock wear this frankly ridiculous white pirate shirt with, frills for the love of God, and another, albeit stronger, pair of tight black trousers. But after the roughness of the consensual rape last week Sherlock did exactly as he was told. There were only so many pairs of pants one could have torn from ones body.

"John....?"

"Shhhhhh....." came Johns quiet warning from the corner of the room. Sherlock twisted his wrists again and the creak sounded dirty.

The silence in the room stretched out. Sherlocks breathing became uneven. He tried to brace for the violation he knew was coming but there was only so long one could brace oneself for that. 

Johns taste tended towards pain, sudden and violent, breathtakingly bad and so very very tasty....

"Stop thinking..." John whispered, suddenly, from just to the side of him. He gasped. How had John crossed the room so silently? 

A soft gloved hand pressed against Sherlocks face and he found himself nuzzling into it like a cat. Who knew when that hand would turn nasty, slap him, pinch him, take him? If John wanted to pat him Sherlock would take all he had until the pain came.

"Mnn, so sweet Sherlock." John murmured. Oh please, that soft purring voice. What nastiness did it hide? 

Johns leather gloved thumb stroked Sherlocks lush bottom lip, gently across like he was wiping a smudge from his face. Sherlock drew in a shuddering breath and his belly hollowed. He waited for the pinch...it never came. Instead, the warm gloved hand trailed lovely soft fingers down his throat, across his collarbone, further down across his nipples and ribs, circled his stomach.....

The bed dipped and John straddled him. Sherlock bit back a whimper, slamming his lips shut and tensing. The pain.....!

..never came.

Instead, both of Johns hands gently held Sherlocks face. He felt John bend forward, and was only too well aware of how close John was to him.

The kiss, when it came, was so loving and deep that it turned Sherlock inside out. Soft beautiful mouth on his, gentle probing tongue, long languid jaw. He responded in kind, moaning in lust as John took his mouth and unraveled his brain.

John gently thrust his hips against Sherlocks centre, hardness obvious against Sherlocks matching state. Sherlock moaned again, deeper this time. What was John doing to him, softening him up until the burn came, hot and white?

The kiss deepened, more tongue and..was John moaning too? He was! Sherlocks eyes rolled beneath his blindfold and pushed his hips up. John pushed his own down to meet him and Sherlock shuddered. This....didn't hurt, at all. It was...nice. Oh good God, pre-come flowed into his trousers and he felt the wetness like a slick sign of his constant slutty demeanour.

"My pretty whore, how much I love you." John murmured and Sherlock actually sobbed. He never sobbed. Not even when John slapped him. But these kind words, this gentle love, was making him come apart.

"John..." he sighed, but there was nothing else his brain could think to say. Usually it was "Fuck me Sir, take me, use me..." and John would be calling him a slut, a fuck, a dirty hole...

But...I love you?

Devastating.

John moved down, kissing a white hot trail down Sherlocks chest, kissing kissing licking, lovingly nibbling and kissing again. Sherlocks throat constricted and he swallowed slowly.

When John got to his trousers he slowly unzipped his sluts fly, reached in with this warm leather gloves and pulled out Sherlocks hot, hard cock. Sherlock wriggled and made a small sound, expecting a bite or a slap.

Instead...ohhhh, he got hot tongue, warm lips, and then...he choked back another sob...John Watson sucked his whole length down his throat in one lonnnnng slowwwwww swallow.

"Oh please...please..." Sherlock begged in a very quiet voice, afraid to bring attention back to the person John may not want to remember on the end of his cock, himself, hot and twisting in his cuffs.

John sucked to the end of Sherlocks cock and then back down again. Sherlock arched and threw his head back, shivering in pleasure. Johns mouth was magic, magic..

"God,John, more please, that's lovely..." he moaned, a little louder. Now, he didn't care if the pain came, this pleasure was all he would recall later. His hardness in Johns wetness.

"Yours-yours-John-yours..." he began to chat, throwing his head side to side. John increased his pace and Sherlock began to thrust his hips up in time to Johns ministrations. 

"Oh oh oh your mouth..."

He thrust faster, barely noticing that John was sliding his trousers down. Sherlock let his knees fall apart automatically, and John moaned his approval. Sherlock didn't notice Johns hand as it moved alongside him, doing something that involved a cap snap. 

When the cold slick gloved finger slid into his arsehole Sherlock gasped wetly and tensed, ready for pain. Instead, the gloved finger paused gently and then....curled up and began to stroke at the walnut shaped core of his colon. Sherlocks breath left him at the same time Johns mouth did. Still stroking Sherlocks prostate, his other richly gloved hand grasped Sherlocks cock and began to insistently tug at him in long, sure, strong movements. 

"Oh GOD, oh...oh GOD!!!" Sherlock whimpered and began to fuck both Johns finger and his fist. Johns breath rolled across Sherlocks stomach and suddenly the bound detective was so so close...

"John, I'm going to...oh God, so close, don't stop me please...please please please..."

And then he was gone. Wave after wave of pleasure ripped through the centre of him, his come shooting out in thick ropes. Just picturing his come on Johns leather glove made his moans deeper, his shudders more shaken, his thrusting twitching hips set to devastate him.

John crawled back up Sherlocks prone, trembling body and began to kiss him, tiny precious kisses, all over his neck and face.

"Lovely whore, lovely."

Sherlock sobbed.

"Thank you Sir thank thank you thank you..." Sherlock panted, twisting, thrusting his throat into Johns lips.

"Mmmm, to see you fall like that..." John murdered into Sherlocks hot skin. "Beautiful.."

Sherlock moaned helplessly, confused. The kindness, the love, the care...

It hurt much more than the slaps and teeth and weapons.

And that contrast was fascinating.

#

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, John is a sadist...


	5. FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock pisses off the Yard and John shows him what happens to insolent little bitches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spankings!!!!

CopiedImage.png

 

YOUR EYES TASTE LIKE CARAMEL

FIVE

Sherlock had been a little bitch all day. John was getting pretty darn fed up, and that was really saying something. He could read fury on the faces of most of the people at the Yard too. It really didn't do to fling your higher intelligence about with barbs and stings. Most people on the force detested him. This was not helping!

"Sherlock, with me." John finally hissed, and stalked off. Sherlock semi-meekly followed, hands buried in the pocket of his Belstaff, still thinking thinking thinking...

Eyes followed them. Angry fed-up eyes.

They got into the elevator and John pressed "B". 

Basement. 

Sherlock gasped and looked at John with fear. The doors slid closed.

"The basement....Sir?" he whispered, falling back onto the elevator wall. John stared straight ahead, refusing to look at Sherlock.

"Yes, bitch, the fucking basement."

Sherlock made a small sound and he began to tremble, just a little. 

The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

"Walk in front of me Sherlock." John ordered, and Sherlock hopped instantly to obey. He walked straight to the supply cupboard John had set up specifically for private activities.

When the detective found the right one he put his hands and nose on the cold wood door, as he had been trained by John to do.

John sidled up behind him and jingled some keys. Sherlock stopped breathing for a second. Johns body pressed up behind him, hot breath on his neck. Sherlock saw the key slot into the handle of the door, turn...

....click!

The door swung open and John shoved Sherlock in by a swift smack between his shoulder blades. The door closed behind them. The storage cupboard went pitch black. Sherlock heard another click that meant the door was locked. 

The overhead light was switched on and in the mellow glow of a low wattage bulb John looked even more threatening. He came around Sherlocks shaking body and stood in front of him, hands behind his back, staring right through his taller companion with his eyes flashing.

"Oh don't be cross!" Sherlock begged.

"DON'T be cross?" John said incredulously, bouncing up on the balls of his feet. "You have been petulant, rude and disrespectful all day you insolent fuck!"

"I'm sorry!"

"I have been training you in manners for months, all that hard work, and this is how you repay me? Being a fuck to all my friends? No Sherlock, not good enough."

John dragged the empty paint barrell to the centre of the room and Sherlocks eyes widened.

"No, don't hurt me! I'm sorry!"

"Too late for that Sherlock." John said, straddling the tin. "Coat off, trousers down, over my knee."

Sherlock shrugged out of the Belstaff. It pooled at his feet. He undid his belt, button and fly, slid his trousers and underwear to just under the crease of his arse and laid across Johns lap. 

Johns left hand caressed the globes of Sherlocks arse. There were no bruises left from the last time Sherlock had been spanked. That was weeks ago. The skin was smooth and soft with a smattering of golden hairs that were picked up in the glow of the paltry light above them.

"No marks on you, Sherlock. You have been so good. But you were very bad today. I am disappointed in your behaviour."

"I am sorry Sir!" Sherlocks voice came muffled beneath his hanging hair. He braced himself for the pain by clutching at Johns pants leg with one long thin hand.

"Sherlock, I take time out of my day to teach you, to love you, to be with you. I am a kind and patient man, but you are always testing me."

The first smack landed on Sherlocks pristine arse and he jumped.

"Sorry!" he cried.

The second smack landed, harder.

"Sorry Sir!" 

The third and fourth were just as hard.

"I'm so sorry!" 

There was a tiny hitch in Sherlocks voice now.

"That hurts doesn't it bitch?" John said, stroking the warming cheeks gently. Sherlocks breathing took up a notch and he nodded,

"Hurts Sir" he agreed, and sniffled, face still hidden by his hair.

John laid a series of 8 hard slaps then, four on each cheek, harder and harder until Sherlock howled, bowed up using Johns pants leg for leverage, and trying to cover his swollen arse with the back of his free hand.

John grabbed a handful of hair at the back of Sherlocks skull and shook him. Sherlock cried out again, and breathed in broken breaths of sodden air.

"Hand DOWN!" John hissed in his ear and Sherlock obeyed at once,  
leaving his arse unprotected again. John shook his hand free from Sherlocks hair and rounded the flat of his palm to the hot arse over his lap.

Sherlock whimpered.

4 more quick smacks then a rest had Sherlock cringing into Johns pants leg, hiding his face. 

4 more smacks had him moaning.

Then the series after that made him burst into tears and beg John to stop.

"Please John stop, it hurts so much!" he sobbed wetly.

"No, my little bitch, I don't think I have marked you quite enough." John said, and rolled up his shirt sleeve. When Sherlock saw this he moaned and became boneless in defeat, loose over Johns lap. His chest was juddering and eyes were leaking. 

There was no use fighting it. 

John had him.

Over the next 10 minutes Sherlock lost count of exactly how many times John spanked him. The pain had gone from hot, to goosebumps, to burning hot again. His arse felt on fire and he had nearly trembled himself off Johns lap three times. Each time John hauled him back on and spanked him some more. Sherlocks crying had become pitiful, his begging incoherent. 

He had behaved badly and John was only correcting him but oh it hurt, it HURT!

"Please please please...." he sobbed but he was unsure why.

Finally, after a particularly long bout, John unceremoniously shoved Sherlock off his knee to fall to the cold concrete floor. Then the good doctor was up and pacing. 

"I hate that I have to do this Sherlock!" he spat, whirling back to where Sherlock lay, propped on his elbows, his hot arse cooling gratefully on the freezing floor. Sherlock noticed John did not say he hated the act itself, just that Sherlocks behaviour had forced him to take action. 

The doctor loomed over Sherlock.

Sherlock shrank back but Johns eyes went soft then, all anger gone. He rolled the sleeve of his shirt down.

"I can only hope this sticks this time." he said softly. 

Then he knelt down and took Sherlocks lovely lips in his own and kissed Sherlock kindly, gently. Once again the kindness was Sherlocks undoing. He sobbed around Johns mouth, begging forgiveness and saying the mantra of "Sorry" until John shushed him. 

John then moved closer, ran his hands through Sherlocks beautiful hair and kissed him again. Deeply. Lovingly. Sherlock replied with a heated kiss of his own, gasping when John sucked on his probing tongue as if it were Sherlocks cock. Sherlock moaned a deep rumble and opened his mouth wider for John, pushing more of his tongue into Johns sucking wetness.

When John gave Sherlock his tongue back, he used it to say "I love you Sir".

John shuddered and rubbed his eyes.

"Christ Sherlock, I love you too."

He stood then.

"Get your coat on slut. We have to go back upstairs. I want you sitting on the hard chair in Lestrades office to help remind you to mind your manners. Up! Quickly!"

Sherlock scrambled to dress himself, doing himself up, tucking himself in, donning his coat, pushing down on his hard cock in a bid to soften it. 

John saw this, chuckled and softly stroked his whores cock. Sherlock made a tiny sound and John laughed.

"Hard chair, hard cock. For the rest of the afternoon." he whispered. "Then tonight, I am going to teach you the best lesson yet."

"Sir...what would that be?"

John tip toed up and put his hot mouth to Sherlocks ear.

"Trust." he whispered and Sherlock could not help but have a tremor fizz down his entire body to pool at his already painfully hard cock.

#

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go!


	6. SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knife and gunplay

YOUR EYES TASTE LIKE CARAMEL

SIX

"Do you trust me Sherlock?" came Johns low voice in Sherlocks ear. 

Sherlock twisted on the hard wooden chair a bit, testing in the harsh rope which bound his wrists behind him. He was not tied to the chair but sitting on it. His arse was still bruised from the spanking he suffered two days ago but John kindly allowed him some black boy leg pants as "protection".

He was not blindfolded this time, John wanted to watch Sherlocks eyes. He was sure Sherlock wanted to watch his too. 

"Sherlock....?" John bent down, his dog tags jingling in a very exciting way. Of course, the fact he was back in his khaki "uniform", back where it all started, was also exciting. 

"John I...I am not sure..." Sherlock said then, quietly. "Trust is..."

"Now Sherlock, I have been all over you these past months, and inside you. What is not to trust?" John said.

"I am happy to give you my body John. Very happy." Sherlock said, taking a deep breath. 

"So you trust me...with your body?" John grabbed Sherlocks chin and forced him to look up at him.

"Yes...Sir, of course I do."

"That is enough for now." John nodded. He lent in and sniffed Sherlock, a long draught. He smelled of soap, cigarettes and Sherlock. "yum..." he said. He caught Sherlocks lips in his own and kissed him, putting his warm palms on Sherlocks chest, rubbing over his nipples gently. Sherlock shivered, but thrust his tongue into Johns mouth, causing John to growl and close his eyes.

"Mine.." he sighed, and began to chomp in Sherlocks lovely neck. 

"John, bite me..."

"Pain slut.."

But how could he say no?

John used his teeth on both side of Sherlocks neck, alternatively nibbling, then biting hard, then kissing, licking, and sucking gently, then pulling the reddened flesh into his mouth. Sherlock alternatively hissed in pain, moan in pleasure, or sometimes round the other way. 

But he did not pull away. No, quite the opposite. He leaned into John, pressing himself neck first, abandoning himself to the teeth and lips he adored.

Finally John stood, and stepped back to breathe. Sherlock flopped in the chair, breathing hard, eyes half closed, neck singing like ice and fire. His cock was very evidently straining against his boy leg pants and his hands twisted quietly in the rope.

John wiped his mouth and then reached behind himself. From the back of his khakis he removed a gorgeous hunting knife, silver and deadly. In two strides he was on Sherlock, tearing the detectives head back by his hair and pressing the knife to the tortured flesh of his throat. 

"No, John!" Sherlock gasped. He only half meant it. They had talked about knife play...ages ago. John wanted to know how edgy they could get and Sherlock mentioned knife play would be fun. The threat of cutting and blood sent a thrill through Sherlocks being, and he had got hard just talking about it.

Now, with the cold knife at his exposed throat, his wrists tied ,John looming above him, the cold of the knife....his cock got harder and his heart beat faster....it was insane and amazing.

"Just onnnnne little cut whore." John murmured, eyes on the knife, deliberately ignoring Sherlocks stricken eyes. "One cut and you could feel snakes of blood trickle down your chest..."

"oh-" Sherlock choked, barely a word. 

John moved the knife down to the hollow at Sherlocks throat, and twisted it like a screwdriver. Sherlock was too afraid to even swallow. He slid his eyes to the side and stared at John. Johns eyes were flinty on the tip of the knife and he kind of sneered as he twisted it. Then John let Sherlocks hair go and circled Sherlock slowly, trailing the knife down his ribs, up his spine, and around to the other ribs. 

Sherlock forgot to breathe.

The circle ended with John standing in front of Sherlock, legs apart. The knife trailed down Sherlocks hard cock and Sherlock stilled, then moaned and rolled his eyes closed. The knife left the tip of his cock and he slowly opened his eyes to see John staring straight at him, smiling, licking the length of the knife.

"On your knees." John ordered, stepping back. Sherlock slid instantly to the ground. 

John unbuttoned himself, brought out his cock and pressed it to Sherlocks lips. At the same time he brought the knife down and pushed it over Sherlocks heart.

"Suck me." he demanded. Then jabbed the knife. A spot of blood welled and Sherlock grunted. "Do a good job."

Sherlock whimpered and bent to Johns cock. He licked it a little, kissed it, jabbed his tongue into the eye and John groaned. But when Sherlock sucked his whole length down into his hot wet velvety mouth the groan became a hiss and long drawn out moan. The knife dropped to the ground with a bright ting, and Sherlock felt safe enough to start bobbing his head on Johns length, hollowing his cheek to suck, relaxing his throat to get John in deep.

"Yeah you dirty fuck, that's nice..." John whispered, and threw his head back, thrusting his hips into Sherlocks willing mouth. His fists curled, so distracting was Sherlocks beautiful mouth.

With a suddenness that scared Sherlock, John growled "Too close!" and shoved Sherlock from him. Sherlock stumbled and then John was on him again. having recovered the knife, he sawed at the rope that bound Sherlocks hands. Sherlocks wrists became free and he flexed them automatically. The rope dropped to the floor in bits and Sherlocks wrists showed red lines where the hemp had bitten in.

"On the bed slut, on your back. Now." 

John turned to his chest of drawers, his back to Sherlock as Sherlock scrambled to do as John demanded. He settled on his back, propped on his elbows to see what John had planned for him now.

"Sherlock I want you to touch yourself." John said. Sherlock was sure he heard a click and some thumps but could not see what John was doing. So he did as John asked. He eased his cock out and put his thumb into the eye to get some pre come as lubricant. There was a lot. He began to stroke himself, his eyes on Johns broad shoulders.

When John turned around he cocked his Browning, and aimed it with two hands, steady as a rock, right between Sherlocks eyes. 

"Keep going Sherlock." John said, as Sherlock froze. John took three steps towards him, eyes like blue steel over the gun. The weapon never wavered.

This they had NEVER talked about. 

But fuck damn FUCK if having that weapon, that extension of John, aimed at him didn't make Sherlock even harder. Johns eyes, so determined. He knew how to use the gun. Had done, in fact. Sherlock realised the thumps he had heard was John taking the bullets out, but the thrill, the danger, was still there. It felt real.

Sherlock moaned, and gulped, and God damn it, he stroked himself.

"Harder." John said in a deep, quiet, deadly voice. "Faster."

"Yes Sir." Sherlock answered, his voice thick with fear and arousal. He upped the strokes and John came forward, the gun straight as an arrow. Sherlock could not take his eyes from the black hole of the barrel and those haunting eyes of Johns.

"Faster..." John demanded, voice a whisper now.

"Oh yes Sir!" Sherlock choked, and stroked himself even faster. He began to squirm. The pace and the gun were doing him in.

John came forward and pressed the gun to the spot of blood the knife left over the detectives heart.

"John-" 

"Come. Now."

And fuck fuck fuck didn't he do just that? The hot waves of his orgasm tore from him, ropes of come flew from his cock to cover his pants, his chest,Johns arm, and oh dear lord, all over the gun pressed into the tender skin above Sherlocks fast thumping heart.

"John-John-John-oh-my-fuck!" Sherlock moaned as he rode his orgasm to finish. 

In a flash, John threw the gun to the bed, shoved Sherlocks legs over his shoulders, smeared his own cock in Sherlocks come and drove himself into Sherlocks arse.

Sherlock yelled at the sudden burning intrusion but in two hot thrusts of Johns cock he found himself thrusting up to meet John, his arse slick and tight around Johns steel hard penis.

"Oh Sherlock you fucking dirty-" John started to growl, but could not continue. He mashed his lips onto Sherlocks hot wet mouth and kissed him deeply, still thrusting roughly into Sherlocks arse. 

The difference between Johns loving mouth and Johns nasty cock was mind blowing and Sherlock moaned and gasped, grabbing at Johns back, trying to shove his tongue deeply into the back of Johns throat. The need to coat himself in Johns saliva became almost as important as breathing.

John made a weird whining growling sound and then let Sherlocks mouth go so he could whisper the detectives name in sobs and gasps as came and came deep inside Sherlocks body, his whole body shuddering.

"God Sherlock, God, God, what you do to me..."

Sherlock kissed and licked his Doctor with mad abandon, all over his face as Johns last shudders died away. John slumped against him.

Then Sherlock sighed.

"Oh John I love you" he whispered into his Dominants ear..."and..your eyes taste like caramel..."

#


End file.
